


Kismesis

by Unda



Category: One Piece
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Canon-Typical Violence, I blame syb, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unda/pseuds/Unda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Started entirely by Syb la tortue, she introduced me to homestuck, the idea of quadrants and the concept of quadrants plus one piece to me. This picture: http://syblatortue.tumblr.com/post/29228514788/i-was-reminded-that-zoro-tentacles-is-a-thing-and and this one http://syblatortue.deviantart.com/art/Up-Close-and-Personal-342278201 are also to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kismesis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SybLaTortue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybLaTortue/gifts).



Sanji has been a prissy little bitch all day and everything he does has been getting on your nerves, the way he walks, his stupid clothes, his arrogant air. And all that is before he even opens his fucking mouth. Everything he says is pissing you off and you’ve no idea if you’re going through some second kind of hormonal thing like when you were thirteen and HATED everything and everyone for like… a year straight. You sincerely hope not because you’re twenty-fucking-one and you’re too old for that shit.

Everything in you just itches to wreck the cook’s shit and you loathe him so much your blood burns. The cook actually snaps before you do and kicks out at you, you wisely don’t draw your swords because with your temper like this you might actually wound the cook seriously and though you want to kill him you don’t want him to actually die. Which makes zero sense but there you go.

Unfortunately punching and kicking puts you a little bit of a disadvantage as you’re unarmed and Sanji isn’t. Losing this fight isn’t doing anything to help your black mood and so even when Sanji has you kicked to the ground you yank him down with you, snarling and grappling. You punch him in the ribs and bite his arm when he tries to shove you off.

“Oh- for the love of-” Sanji snarls and shoves his hand down your pants.

And. Just… what? Like it or not though Sanji’s hand is wrapped around your apparently hard cock and moving at a punishingly fast pace that just leaves you shaking underneath him while letting out all sorts of desperate noises and mutter accusations of hate into the fabric of his jacket. You come in no time at all and suddenly that itch that’s been living under your skin is completely gone.

“Feel better now princess?” Sanji sneers down at you, making your skin flush angrily again. Like hell you’re going to let him win that, so before he can protest his dick is halfway down your throat and he alternates between begging you not to stop and threatening to murder you. Somehow the threat of death turns you on more than the plea, but it’s a close run thing.

“What the hell was that all about?” you wonder briefly later, after Sanji’s apparently stopped trying to choke you with come (fucking bastard didn’t _warn_ you or anything!).

“Hate-fuck?” Sanji answers weakly out loud from his place sprawled on the floor.

Well, okay then.

After that it becomes a regular thing, there becomes a thin line between fighting and fucking and though everyone else knows you don’t do that in public. Though Sanji really tried his best to fuck you into the floorboards when he realised that people knew, you found bruises and bite-marks all over yourself for weeks after that one, it was amazing.

It becomes a game of sorts, trying to piss the other person off enough until they snap first. There’s apparently no limit to their creativity though there are only two rules and both of them abide by them religiously. First rule, Sanji’s kitchen tools and your swords are out of bounds, you know full well that if you ever damaged one of Sanji’s knives he’d never forgive you and the same goes for your own blades. It’s just not okay.

Secondly and perhaps most importantly is that no means no, the nature of their pushy demanding angry relationship necessitates a certain amount of roughness and doing things without asking and as such a certain amount of token protest is involved. When Sanji kicks you into the mast and pulls your hair so hard your neck bends back you have to tell him to get fucked, you have to swear and curse and tell him to get off you, to threaten him with pain when you get loose. It’d be pathetic otherwise. But actually saying no… that means stop and leave it with no questions asked. They rarely have to use it, you’re pretty good at reading the cook and either Sanji is good at reading you too or you’re never in the mood to turn him down, you’re the only one out of the two of you that’s never said no.

It’s not like it’s all violence and fucking though. After sex Sanji lets you get close to him and you have pleasant conversations a lot more than you used to. When Sanji’s sated your lust it’s surprisingly easy to be nice to him provided that he’s not trying to irritate you. You discover pretty quickly that kissing Sanji distracts him from arguing, though the fact that it does frustrates him to no end, making the already pleasurable act even better.

One day you come into the kitchen, leaning back to lock the door. Sanji’s humming to himself, in a peaceful mood no doubt, that’ll be great to disrupt. You sneak up behind him and shove him hard against the sink, making him drop the colander in his hands with clatter. He snarls at you, his eye flashing angrily and you lean in to kiss him.

The smell of it hits you in the face when you’re less than an inch from his lips. Perfume. Not Nami’s or Robin’s either, something strange and new, cloying and sickly floral. You pull back a little and see a trace of lipstick on the cook’s earlobe. You feel sick and furious and so _so_ angry. You’d never talked about this being an exclusive thing, mainly because you can’t imagine wanting anyone else but apparently you should have because Sanji’s been with someone else.

Hurt is the first thing that flashes through you with a little dubious thought that perhaps you’re not enough for him. Thankfully it’s immediately chased by rage and the desire to show him just how enough for him you are. You fight him, this time more brutally than ever before and by the time you throw him to the floor and rip his shirt you’re both bleeding. He never says no, not even once, he barely tells you to quit it either. You’re far rougher and more inconsiderate with him than you’ve ever been, all you care about it replacing that sickly sweet flowery smell with your own sweat and proving to Sanji that no one else will ever fuck him like this. You’d feel bad if you couldn’t feel the pleasure and anger rolling off of Sanji in waves, you’d worry if it wasn’t for the fact that he shatters so prettily beneath you as you pull him apart and make him moan.

You bite a possessive mark high up on his neck because he’s yours and no one else’s. That pisses the cook off enough for a second round and he all but bites your jugular out in retaliation. You shudder and love him and hate him all at the same time.

Despite all that Sanji still occasionally has flings with girls, but he never brings them back.

Until… until when he’s twenty-five he does.

She’s pretty with long dark curled hair that bounces when she walks. Her name is Cheri. She’s petite and pretty, just Sanji’s type. You’re not angry at him for it surprisingly because the cook is so sickeningly happy. Happy is one of the things that you always like Sanji to be because despite all that’s going on between you he’s still your nakama and you want him to be happy. It’s just every other emotion of his that you fuck with.

So you back off, you don’t really fight with him, or at least you don’t let it get into that dangerous territory between fighting and fucking that the best feelings come out. It takes you a little while to realise that Sanji isn’t trying to push it that way anymore anyway.

You try to get to know her over the months that she’s on the ship. She doesn’t have any powers or any skills at all, in a fight Sanji has to completely protect her. That said she’s a damn good painter and she and Usopp get along great, she gets along with everyone well except for Robin who’s always been a little slow to warm to people. Hell you’ve known Robin years and you’ve only really got truly comfortable with her in the last six months. Her sick sense of humour creeps you out a little sometimes but she’s zen in a way that you can’t help but find soothing.

You keep expecting her and Sanji to go their separate ways, you suppose you’re just biding your time really. The way you feel for the stupid cook hasn’t changed at all and soon enough he’ll get bored with his love and come back your hate. Only… only one night you come onto the beach that you’re docked at and spot a huge rock on Cheri’s finger in a ring that Nami’s all but drooling over so it must be worth bags of money. The cook is so happy he’s almost radioactive and he’s talking excitedly to Usopp about a wedding.

Nope nope nope.

You turn on your heel and go right back onto the ship, Sanji doesn’t even notice you. You scramble up to your weights room like your ass is on fire and slam the door after you. She’s not going to go away, Sanji isn’t going to get bored of her and you’re never going to get him back. This isn’t some stupid fling that the cook needs to work out of his system, this is love. He’s going to marry her and you… you’re going to have to watch.

You’re pacing around the room freaking out when Robin comes in. She doesn’t ask you if you’re okay because that would be annoying, she doesn’t patronise you, she just sits down and waits. Eventually you drop down onto the floor next to her.

“When?” You choke out, your throat tightening so much the words feel like they won’t come out.

“About an hour ago. They’re all wondering where you are.” Robin answers you.

Fuck. You bet Sanji isn’t wondering where you are, he’s too busy fussing over his bride-to-be. Before you know it that thought has wrenched a sob from you and you feel the first tears escape your eyes. God, now that you’ve started it’s impossible to stop.

“I hate him so much.” You sob out pathetically into your knees as Robin rubs your back soothingly. She seems to be one of the few that actually understands how this works. She understands that you hate Sanji with every breath in your body and that you’d die for him, you know with a sickening certainty that you’ll never not hate the blonde cook and right now seeing him marry someone else is ripping your heart out. She doesn’t try to tell you that it’s love because what’s the difference anyway? There isn’t any for you but the cook… that idiot has always been in love with the idea of love and Cheri was his happily ever after. That’s something that you know you can’t offer the cook because whilst you’d gladly sell your soul for him you just can’t be nice to him long enough to get the cook to love you. You prefer the hate anyway.

You curl into Robin’s sympathetic side and sob your broken black heart out. You’d always thought that the cook would get how you felt sooner or later and it’s too goddamn difficult to explain anyway. Apparently you were wrong. The tears take forever to stop as your mind runs over and over again about how you’re never going to get to kiss him ever again, or how you’re never going to be the one to make him come. You know that you’ll never slide close to him after sex with something so close to love that it confuses even you. You’ll never argue with him so hard that one of you end up with your face shoved in the floor and the best angry hate sex ever happening. And worse you’ll have to see him with someone else.

Robin pets your hair like you’re some kind of fucking cat, but she doesn’t say it’ll be okay because it won’t.

“I could kill her.” She offers quietly into your hair as the sobs fade and turn into pathetic hiccups.

“That’d break his heart.” You say, shaking your head and rubbing at your eyes.

“I couldn’t do that to him.” You add, wishing the same was only true for Sanji. Robin looks at you with pity as well as sympathy, usually that’d hack you right off but you’re well aware you’re pitiful right now so she may as well.

 

Sooner or later you end up congratulating the cook and telling him that you’re happy for him and, to be honest, when you see his beaming smile and how excited he is you sort of are. All the same your heart is still broken and in the quiet of your head you wish he’d never met Cheri and wished that it wasn’t the case that you’d never been as happy when you were with Sanji in your hate filled relationship.

Sanji’s clearly too stupid to realise how you feel though because only two days after he proposed to his stupid fiancée he comes and kicks you in the back when you’re trying to meditate. He always loved to interrupt your meditation and destroy your calm but right now he’d better have a fucking good reason. He’s the reason you’re meditating anyway, trying to purge yourself of the weakness of your feelings. The way that you react with loathing to every word from his mouth, the way he looks in the morning that makes your heart throb, the quirk of his soft lips that you’d love to kiss. All of those feelings need to go away because you’re never going to be with him again, so the last thing you need is his shoe in your kidneys.

“WHAT?” You demand, your voice flat and threatening.

“Your face has been pissing me off all day.” Sanji accuses, and it’s just like it was before, the sort of nothing insult that told Zoro that you’d got under the cook’s skin without trying. Your gut clenches painfully at the thought.

“No. Now, go away.” You growl, you can’t deal with this right now. It’s still all too fresh and painful to fight with Sanji, your heart just can’t take being exposed to something so close to what you want without having it.

“Don’t ‘no’ me, I didn’t ask you a question shitface, get up.” Sanji orders, kicking you again, harder this time. That answers the question then, Sanji was never able to read you after all, you were just too desperate for anything he’d give you to say no. Well, you’re saying it now.

“I said, no.” you retort, eyes shut and trying to focus.

One more kick snaps your entirely non-existent patience. You spring to your feet, spin on your heel, grab Sanji by the throat and slam him into the ground not giving any fucks at all how hurt you get him.

“I FUCKING said _no_ , or has it been so long that you’ve forgotten what that means?!” you scream furiously into Sanji’s face. You’ve lost all sense of control and you’re shaking from the inside out. You don’t wait to hear Sanji’s answer and just walk off.

The cook doesn’t bother you again. It’s hard to say if this pleases you or not.

You try to convince yourself that you’re not jealous of Cheri, it’s not her fault at all and she’s frustratingly nice too. If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s marrying the hate of your life you’d quite like her. She makes you laugh sometimes and she’s pleasant enough but you can’t seem to manage to like her or hate her, instead you just wish she had never met your cook. But he’s her cook now, not yours.

Not that you’d know from how much the cook has been eyeballing you since you turned him down for a fight. You’ve even had Chopper sent to you on Sanji’s behalf as the cook was insisting that you must be sick. Hate-sick sure, but not you’re not ill. Eventually things fall someway back towards normal and you’ll argue with Sanji but you won’t fight him, though the cook won’t seem to get the hint. He keeps swinging for you and despite the fact that you keep backing out of fights and going off to do something else he keeps pushing. Eventually he riles you up enough that you do fight him and although it doesn’t go far the beaming look on Sanji’s face is enough to split your heart open again.

The cook keeps pushing it further and further every week and you lack the courage to say no. The fights are far past what you’ve ever done in front of Cheri before and within a few months they’re only stopping just short of that fighting/fucking line that you know so well. You’ve no idea what you’ll do if Sanji pushes it past that, you’re sick enough for him that you’d probably let him, even though what you feel is completely one sided. After all, you’re witness to the fact that each day he’ll fight with you and then moon over his bride to be and tell her how much he loves her, breaking your heart a little more as he does it each and every time.

Sanji doesn’t seem to notice or care that you want him so bad that your bones ache and if he notices the way you watch his mouth he certainly doesn’t say so. Even Nami and Usopp have picked up on how much Sanji is unthinkingly stringing you along and just how needy he leaves you after each fight which is so close to being enough and still so far.

Usopp even tries to convince you to back off from Sanji again, to cut him off from fights. But you know that you’re too far gone to do that, you could just as easily kick the habit of breathing.

One day the ship is pulled up to an island that’s not too dissimilar from the town that they picked Cheri up from in the first place. The crew is always wary of towns and half of the crew have gone ahead already to see if the place is okay, when they come back they’ll all go. Cheri bursts out from the door to the hallway that leads to her and Sanji’s bedroom, the door slamming makes you jump in a way that you’re really glad Sanji didn’t see, after all you have _some_ self-respect.

Her eyes are tearful and angry and she’s got a suitcase in each hand, the door banged because she’d kicked it open.

“Cheri! WAIT!” Sanji calls after her, running out behind her and catching her arm.

“No, it’s _over_!” She insists, pulling her arm away.

“But why?! I don’t understand, I love you, I don’t know why you don’t think I don’t! There’s no one else!” Sanji pleads with her and it starts occurring that you probably shouldn’t be here for this.

“LIAR! I refuse to be second in your heart to someone, not if I’m going to be your wife!” She snaps back at him.

Has Sanji been sleeping with someone else? Surely not. The cook would never be so insensitive and unfaithful, well, not consciously anyway. And not to someone like Cheri who was smart enough to outline the terms of her relationship with him and the exclusivity inherent in it, unlike the idiot that _you_ were.

“There _is_ no one else!” The cook insists, wide eyed and terrified.

“He’s right fucking HERE!” She yells, pointing right at you. And what the fuck? No, you’ve not been fucking the cook, you’d be a hell of a lot happier if you were, or a hell of a lot more miserable. One or the other. Or both.

Sanji looks at you then, eyes searching as if he’d only just even noticed you were alive. It shouldn’t but it stings a little.

“Zoro?” Sanji all but laughs, okay now that does hurt.

“I’m not- there is _nothing_ between Zoro and I. Look, I love you, I _hate_ him, you must know that.” Sanji continues. You really need to get out of here, there’s no reason for you to stay here and hear just how little you mean to Sanji.

“So tell me what you _do_ feel for him!” She demands, and that glues your feet to the fucking ground right there.

Sanji’s furious eyes fall on you, as if this is all your fault. In fairness it probably is. Enough people have picked up on your pathetic hateful pining for Sanji that it wouldn’t be too far-fetched for Cheri to have as well.

“I _loathe_ him! I want to punch him in the face every time he says something, every fucking word drives me crazy. Just looking at him makes me wanna scream. I’ll hate him until the day I die and even then if I died first I’d come back to haunt him out of spite, even if I’d forgotten my own name I’d know to do that. I want nothing more than to wrap my hands around his throat and choke him to death, bring him back to life and kill him again!” Sanji spits.

Fuck, this is a really inappropriate time to get hard but if that isn’t the hottest most hatefully-romantic thing Sanji’s ever said to you then… god. Cheri must catch something of your expression, no matter how quick you try to hide it.

“You see?” She says, her gaze flicking back to the cook.

“The thing you want most is him, not to be with me. Not to marry me or have a family or anything just… you hate him more than you’ll ever love me. I can’t marry you.” She says in a hurt voice and you’d have to be blind not to see the cook’s heart break a little at her words.

“Don’t be stupid, he loves you.” You say, acting out of some stupid instinct to keep the cook happy, to protect him. You want to hurt him sure, but you want it to be you and you want to decide the hurt. This isn’t what you want at all.

“You stay OUT of this!” Cheri snaps at you, her finger right in your face.

“Look, just because I hate him doesn’t mean anything for us. I love you with all of my heart, please don’t leave. He’s no substitute for you.” Sanji argues. Okay, ouch again, inappropriate hardness problem solved right there.

“Tell me you two have never slept together then.” Cheri challenges. Now that makes Sanji flounder for a second.

“Not since he met you.” You answer for him, sounding slightly numb because it’s not a topic you like to talk about. Cheri looks up at you, her big eyes watching you carefully.

“It meant _nothing_.” Sanji declares vehemently, effectively confirming everything you’d feared but hoped wasn’t true. Even so he may as well have just kicked your sternum open years ago and ripped your heart out with his bare hands, it would have been quicker and much less painful than this. Something of that must be evident even to her because Cheri eyes him pityingly and turns her gaze back to Sanji.

“You’re an asshole, and a stupid one at that.” She accuses, you don’t say it but you heartily agree. The blonde looks confused as fuck.

“If this is about me wanting kids then-” Sanji begins stabbing another barb of ‘things you can never give him’ through his chest. Why the fuck are you still here listening to this? Even you must have some more self-preservation than this surely.

“It’s nothing to do with that. It’s over, I’m getting off this ship and you’re not to follow me. Here.” She adds, pulling the ring off of her finger and pressing it into Sanji’s palm.

The expression on the cook’s face is gut wrenchingly pained and it makes you open your mouth. You’ve already had your heart stomped on but there’s no need for Sanji to have his happiness taken away too. He’s your nakama as well as the hate of your life, you’d do anything to keep him from this.

“Please don’t, you’ll break his heart. He’s happy with you.” He begs softly, reaching out and touching Cheri’s back as she turns.

“If I’m the problem I’ll stop, I’ll ignore him if I have to, I won’t argue with him or fight. Just don’t hurt him.” You plead quietly, hoping against hope that the cook won’t hear you.

“You did that already and it only made him want you more. It won’t work.” She says shaking her head and walking up to the gangplank.

“Don’t-” you call out, chasing after her.

“Zoro, no.” Sanji says, no… orders you. That word is wired right into your nervous system and you screech to a halt on the railing of the ship so hard that you almost fall in the water.

“She’s leaving though.” You protest weakly, it’s not an argument to let you continue, the deal is that you don’t argue when someone says no. However it doesn’t seem to be innocent enough to dissuade Sanji who looks at you like some particularly disobedient thing and, okay you might be within a hairs breadth of being the world’s greatest swordsman but that look makes you feel like you should be standing in the corner like a bad little kid.

“No.” Sanji repeats. You land back on the deck and look at the heartbroken cook but sensibly keep your distance.

“I’ll be in my room, I don’t want anyone to disturb me. Eat ashore tonight.” Sanji says blankly and returns down the hallway that he and Cheri came from, this time alone.

A creak above you makes you look up and you see Luffy looking down at you from the crow’s nest with Usopp at his side. The captain jumps down and consolingly pats you on the shoulder before going to sit on the Sunny’s head.

 

For the first few weeks after his beloved leaving him Sanji avoids being alone with you like the plague, not that you try much, you already feel guilty as hell for costing the cook his love and his future wife. You try to lead your life as best you can without Sanji in it, you train, eat, sleep, do your chores when Nami threatens you with further debt. But when Sanji comes into the weights room to find you you’re literally floored.

No, really, literally.

On account of the kick to the knees and all.

You may make some kind of undignified noise on your path to the ground, the ground which Sanji heartily reacquaints you with by grabbing your hair and slamming your face into it. You try to genuinely struggle out of it, bending to reach your swords because Sanji may actually be trying to kill you here and you should probably at least defend yourself.

“I hate you so _fucking_ much.” Sanji hisses in your ear, his voice all blown out with loathing and sex in way that you’re all too familiar with but have been so deprived of. You don’t even bother to suppress the moan and though you try to participate, trying to scratch and bite at Sanji like you usually would the blonde is having none of it. If this were a verbal argument Sanji would have screamed that you should just shut your face and fucking listen already. So you take whatever Sanji’s decided to give you, which is apparently quite a lot.

And as Sanji fucks into you from behind, his grip on your hip bruising and with his other hand pins your throat to the floor you don’t care if this is a one-time thing or a rebound, you don’t care if you’re a poor substitute for the woman that he wanted but got left with you instead. You’re sure you’ll care infinitely later but right now you finally have Sanji back and that’s all you want.

Sanji’s snarling and snapping, being rougher with you than you’re certain he’s ever been with anyone else and though he might have been with Cheri before you’re the only one who’s ever got to see the side of him. That thought alone makes you gasp and moan into the floorboards and when your orgasm hits you (embarrassingly fast all things told but it has been _forever_ ) it smacks you in the back of the head like one of Sanji’s favoured mule kicks. Sanji’s fingernails dig into the back of your neck and your throat and he hisses your name as he releases.

After that most hateful hate-fuck ever Sanji collapses next to you and, in a moment of braveness you reach up and kiss Sanji. Not the hating biting kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and taking over the cook’s mouth but something soft and sincere that makes your heart ache. You really hope that the cook gets it this time because you’re not sure you can cope with him breaking your heart any more than he already has. Sanji kisses back and for the first time it’s almost sweet and draws a breathy sigh from your mouth.

“She was right, wasn’t she?” Sanji says, squinting at you.

“Yeah, you are an asshole.” You retort because you’re not going to have a discussion about _feelings_ after a mind blowing thing like that.

“Eh, maybe.” Sanji concedes.

After that things pick up, not quite where you left off because you’re both different and you’d be dumb to completely trust Sanji again after everything. Still the cook is doing everything he can to get under your skin and you’re happy to reciprocate even being creative in the process.

For example your plan right now is brilliant. Sanji’s kitchen itself is not off limits and you’ve been thrown on the table before so this should infuriate him without destroying this delicate balance the two of you have going. It’ll be close though. You challenge yourself to 9000 push ups in a row, you allow yourself three small breaks of no more than five minutes during which you’re not allowed to get up, just rest your arms. 9000 is a whole 1000 more than your previous record and actually the whole thing hurts like hell. Sanji comes up to you around 5000 but seemingly clocks that you’re in the middle of something (slightly over the middle thankfully) and leaves you be. You miss dinner which is also another surefire way to get in trouble.

The last five hundred have bring you near to tears with arms burning and shaking with pain. Just in time too as the cook has gone off to give evening coffee to the ladies, after all some things never change.

Unsteadily you get to your feet, weaving on your way to the kitchen like some stupid landlubber with no sea-legs. You get in, kick the door shut but not locked and peel off your soaked clothes. Even you know that you reek of sweat and dirt so you deliberately let your clothes slap wetly across as much of the floor as you can possibly manage. Entirely naked you turn with your back to the table and throw yourself across it with a groan you settle yourself onto the hard wood, trying to get as much of your sweat all over Sanji’s precious table as possible.

You’re already hard at the thought of how much this will piss the cook off but if you weren’t the outraged look and anguished shriek the cook gives you when he comes in the door would have done the trick. The cook kicks the door shut behind him and locks it, he’s grinding his teeth which is always a wonderful sign of how angry he is. Keeping the shiver of anticipation to yourself you let one of your knees fall to the side so you can regard him.

“Hey.” Said as casually as you like as if you’re not fucking NAKED on his dining table in a pool of your own sweat.

“Oh you fucking _reek_! Why would you even- I don’t- I will _KILL_ you!” Sanji yowls and grabs at you, hauling you upright with nails biting into your skin. Sanji’s eyes are furiously focused behind you and you glance over your shoulder to see that you’ve left a dripping sweat angel on the wooden table. Perfect.

You fumble for the cook’s fly but your hands and arms are so pissed with you after the 9000 push ups that they can barely move. The cook puts two and two together and makes precisely four and smirks at you.

“Oh did you brilliant plan fail to account for the fact that you need your arms for this? You ridiculous fuckwit? Looks like I’ll get my own back then huh?” Sanji sneers, yanking you by the leg and the neck until you falls off of the table onto your knees with a painful sting. Sanji gets to his button before you can but you one up him by undoing his zipper with your teeth.

Thankfully years of having a sword in your yap have all but destroyed your gag reflex so Sanji’s attempts to skullfuck you as a punishment are nowhere near as unpleasant as he thinks, in fact you’ve always liked it. Not that you’ll tell him because he might stop doing it then. When Sanji comes you pull back enough not to accidentally swallow it and so far all is going as planned.

You keep it in your mouth long enough for Sanji to notice and look at you in puzzlement before you turn your head, keeping eye contact as long as possible, and spit Sanji’s come as far as you can all over Sanji’s nice clean bench. It goes an impressive way, splattering much of the bench.

You have about 0.75 seconds to laugh at your genius before Sanji kicks you in the side of the face, sending you sprawling across the room without your treacherous arms to catch you. You land on your back, shoulder blades singing from the impact with the floor.

Sanji is on you in a second, his hot angry body covering yours. His hand is on your dick and he’s whispering filthy things in your ear about how long it’s gonna take him to clean up the table after that, how disgusting it was of you to spit all over the bench and how much he hates you. It’s all so much and it’s not long before that tell-tale heat is coiling dangerously in your gut, winding up tension that is in desperate need of release. Within moments of it though Sanji drops his grip, shifts and shoves your arms above you in a way that rends screeching pain through your system, knees jam into the meat of your thighs and hold you just where he’s decided that he wants you.

“How do you even come up with the idea to do something as _depraved_ as that?!” Sanji demands in your face.

“I’m not even going to touch you, I’m just gonna leave you like this, what do you think of that?” The cook hisses, shoving harder onto protesting arms that ache horribly.

Maybe it’s the pain or maybe it’s just seeing how much you’ve managed to get under the cook’s skin but either way without Sanji’s hand anywhere near your junk you’re long gone, coming apart underneath the cook and love/hating him for every second of it.

The cook’s face comes back into focus after a little while, staring bug eyed down at you.

“Did… did you just come from my _voice_?” He asks incredulously and sounding unbelievably turned on.

“I hate you.” You reaffirm instead and kiss him, biting his lip hard. Then you shuffle off buck naked to the crow’s nest where it’s your watch and you have clean clothes, leaving Sanji with all the clean-up will no doubt piss him off more as you intended but you’re nice like that. Ignoring all of your watch duties you get dressed, fall face down on the couch and sleep for a solid 12 hours.

 

“Marry me?” The cook asks the next month, making you drop the plate that you’re washing.

“Fucking what?” is the only response you can come up with.

“Marry me.” He repeats, looking deadly serious.

What the actual fuck? Why would the cook even say something like that? It’s a sick way to get under his skin and he doesn’t like it at all.

“Fuck you.” You spit and storm off, leaving him with the washing up.

 

“Marry me?” The cook asks again two weeks after that, this time pulling a gold ring out of his pocket. Now it’s a nice ring, just his style, but he’s not going to be swayed by jewellery which after all is meaningless.

“Not funny.” You snarl, shoving him angrily.

“Not joking.” Sanji counters, making you freeze. The cook can’t be serious, can he?

“Go drown!” You scream, shoving him overboard.

 

The cook starts to get sneaky. Next time he waits until you’re all post coitally happy before placing the opened box on your stomach.

“I hate you, marry me?” The cook offers. That’s a little better, and actually tempting. You squint at the ring, it’s different to the last time, you’re sure of it.

“It’s different.” You remark casually.

“I lost the last one in the sea after you threw me overboard.” The cook concedes looking excited as you pick up the box and peer at it. The ring is gold with waves on it, pretty.

“This is going to get expensive for you, cause I’m about to tell you to stop fucking asking me that shit.” You retort, getting to your feet and flinging it out the window. It lands in the ocean with a splash and a painful “nooooo” from Sanji. You get dressed and fuck off.

 

The third ring Sanji brings you he’s smart enough to hold onto, he’s learning, sort of.

“Marry me?” The cook asks again.

“Were you born this stupid or did you have to work at it?” you demand irritably, pausing your work out to regard the cook with scorn.

“It’s mainly from being around you I think, I never used to be like this.” The cook answers with a shrug, dragging a smirk from your lips against your will.

“How many times do I have to turn you down?” you ask with a sigh because this is getting OLD.

“Until you actually tell me no.” Sanji answers quickly.

And- oh. Huh. He’s right. You’ve not actually said no. Not said the magic words that would have made Sanji stop and drop the whole subject. Maybe because part of you doesn’t… doesn’t want him to drop it, maybe you just wanted to see if he really meant it. He feels kinda dumb, and he guesses it shows on his face.

“Were you born this stupid or did you have to work at it?” The cook parrots back.

You hiss and get to your feet, snatch the ring box off of him and kick him in the shin. Sanji looks antsy as if you might throw this one overboard too. This one is gold as well and looks like it’s made of three parts but despite twisting it this way and that you can’t see where they separate. It’s… nice. It slides perfectly onto the correct finger and fits instantly, how the cook managed that is anyone’s guess.

Sanji’s face looks so insufferably gleeful and sappy that you have to punch him right in the eye to set things straight. Sanji still has the black eye in the wedding photos and grins like a moron. You tell yourself that you had to marry him, no one else would put up with his dumb ass. So, yeah, it might be love or something like it.

 


End file.
